share the cost (and see the light)
by bottledlogic
Summary: <html><head></head>In which Steve and Maria have a conversation about freedom and responsibility, over pizza and Tony Stark's incessant interruptions.</html>


**a/n**: so i was re-watching CA2 when my brother - who normally approaches shipping with disdain and scepticism - walks in during the 'price of freedom' speech, points at the screen, and says, "there is totally something going on with these two." thus, this fic was born.

* * *

><p><strong>share the cost (and see the light)<strong>

* * *

><p>Since acquiring her job as Head of Special Taskforces and Allied Recruitment at Stark Industries – a job she's ninety-five percent sure didn't exist prior to the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.; the other five percent she'll give Tony the benefit of the doubt – she's moved two-thirds of her Manhattan apartment into Avengers Tower. Granted, there wasn't an excessive amount to be moved, and the most logical choice pragmatically speaking, but every now and then, the niggling voice in the back of her mind reminds her that she's probably just sold her soul even further to Tony Stark.<p>

Still, there are days where she can see its advantages, despite the mind-numbing paperwork, endless recruitment interviews and checks with former agents, and JARVIS' omniscient presence.

Like now, when she stands at the wall of window – just breathing, no noises – and watches the yellow cabs pull out of the kerb seemingly of their own accord, watches the bright neon lights dance in front of her eyes, watches the rush of people bustling in the August heat…

Muffled footsteps break her reverie and aimless concentration; she inhales and closes her eyes slowly.

"Captain," she offers a greeting without turning around.

"Agent Hill. How did you know?"

"Process of elimination," she says dryly. "Could have been Wilson, but his step is surprisingly heavier than yours. Romanoff and Barton would never make that much noise, Banner flew out a few hours ago, Pepper's in DC tonight, which leaves you or Stark, and I think we both know when he's in the room."

"You make it sound too easy."

"Also, I can see your reflection," she gestures to the window before turning to him with a smirk. "And please, I'm not an agent anymore."

He laughs and walks up to her. "Okay. Maria, then."

She nods in response. "How's the search going?"

"It's going." He pauses to stare. "We needed to… to touch base, I guess."

"Chasing ghosts is never easy."

"Yeah. And, you know, I figured we should see what everyone else's been doing. I mean, as much as we can be a team after S.H.I.E.L.D. and everything went down. Been a while since we left."

"No justification needed, Captain," she says quietly.

She thinks she sees a flash of uncertainty on his face before it disappears, and he turns to look at her. "How's the job here?"

"Pretty much the same as before, minus the guns and the aliens. The technology's still there, probably better actually. Paperwork's still a bitch, the State Department and all the three-lettered agencies are still idiots, Pepper's great, and Tony's… well, Tony."

And she definitely doesn't miss the tension and guilt in his posture this time. She opens her mouth to interject when she hears the faint steps and muttered curses filtering through the glass doors.

"And speak of the devil," she says.

"Cap. Hill." He nods at each of them in turn. "Where's the food?"

"Tony-"

"Okay, new rule – if anyone's in the common area, there has to be food. And by food, I mean pizza preferably, already delivered. JARVIS-"

"Ordered, and on its way, Sir."

"See? Efficiency at its finest." He swivels around to examine the two standing by the window. "So, Cap. What brings you around? Thought you'd be out looking for, you know…" He gestures vaguely in their direction.

He shares a slightly exasperated look at Maria before answering. "Needed a break." _And a place to stay_. "Couldn't leave _you_ to keep the Avengers going, could I?" He shoots back.

Tony smirks. "Your floor's still free. And I thought that was Hill's job now."

She raises an eyebrow. "Technically, I work for Pepper. _Not_ your team of superheroes pulled from literally the ends of the earth."

"Eh, you secretly enjoy it. And wish you were one of us."

She lets out an unladylike snort. "Keep dreaming, Stark."

Steve watches with amusement and leans back against the counter. He's missed this, he can't deny it; camaraderie built from the ground up, built from the ashes of conflict. His eyes rake over the polished room and he catalogues as many changes as he notices, missing pieces twisting his gut.

"Sir, the pizza-"

"Yep, got it." He stalks off towards the doors with a swagger.

"He's buzzing today," she remarks.

"Sorry I left you with this," Steve apologises, head nodding towards the retreating figure.

"Price of freedom," she quips. "I knew what I was getting into."

His mouth turns again, ready to protest, but she manages to intercept him this time. "Hey, you made the right call, and I _agreed_ with you. S.H.I.E.L.D. had to go, and it wasn't what I signed up for, probably never was, anyway."

"And now?"

(And she gets it, and god, he's thankful he doesn't have to spell it out.)

"Seventy years ago, you had far too much responsibility piled on you," she says, eyes keenly locked onto his. "The world doesn't – _shouldn't_ – hinge on the efforts of one man; you're not needed like you were in the war. Whatever Fury said, we don't need a single soldier to fight our battles. But you are a part of this team, and everyone is okay with your search for Barnes. Leaving the responsibility for a while won't kill us."

"And you've always had some sort of responsibility," he counters sardonically.

She pauses, looks away, lets the moonlight streaming through the great windows throw shadows across her face.

"Don't we all?" Her voice rings low and clear through the room.

"Don't we all what?"

He manages to suppress his reaction at Tony's sudden interruption, but he doesn't quite suppress the stomach growl from the smell of food.

(Item #12 that he's missed while chasing his not-so-dead best friend – pizza. Scratch that – make that pizza _delivery_.)

"Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" Tony asks with a smug grin. "I can totally leave you two alone and take this with me somewh-"

"No," he says. "Just... pass the food already."

"Whatever you say, Cap. But you two gotta let me join in. It's the only entertainment I've got tonight."

Maria rolls her eyes, and Steve hastily coughs to cover up his laugh.

(Dammit, he's really missed this. Her. This. Whatever.)

"So, what were we talking about?" Tony flops onto the couch and braces his feet against the pristine coffee table.

"Freedom and responsibility," she replies in a clipped tone. "Happen to know anything about it?"

"Sure. You guys did a bang-up job with both," he says sarcastically. "Don't even want to know what Fury was thinking. _Is_ thinking," he adds, with a sly look in her direction.

She promptly ignores him. "It wasn't entirely his fault. We both agreed that it was foolish to see the world any more than what it currently is. But to project that into the future?"

"So you never thought Project Insight was a good idea?" Steve asks her curiously, taking a bite of pizza.

"Yeah," Tony interjects. "His idea of freedom was a bit warped."

"I was a soldier, then a spy. Freedom exists, but it's relative."

Steve looks mildly surprised. "I never took you to be so cynical."

"The things you learn. Do you have any idea the number of times I've interviewed new S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits, asked them what it stands for, and received some heroic answer in return?"

"You interviewed people? God, were you trying to scare them _away_, Hill?"

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Shut up, Stark."

"But seriously though, are you telling me S.H.I.E.L.D. was once that idealistic? Geez, should've just come to work here."

"Because you see things with sunshine and roses? Speaki-"

"-Well, we're not an _intelligence agency-_"

"-_Speaking_ of which, you need to sort out your biomedical department; they're the most disillusioned lot in your company."

Stark waves a hand dismissively, his pizza dangerously close to becoming his next weapon. "They don't have cool toys to play with."

(And Steve wishes he could get out his sketchbook and just _draw_. His mind is already sketching out the hazy silhouette in front of him; bold lines meeting planes, the moon and its shadows looping patterns around the room meeting cold metal and the dim warm light, a foot gracefully languidly hooked around the rung of a barstool, relaxed shoulders with an arm reaching out wanting more, pale wrist curled in with a watch glinting off the countertop…)

"Capsicle. Cap. Earth to Rogers."

He suddenly starts, with Tony waving a ridiculously greasy slice of pizza under his nose.

"_There_ you go," Tony says with an ounce of satisfaction. "You were staring at Hill for so long I'd thought she'd combust. You know, not that I'd mind, of course…"

Steve gives him A Look (more accurately: Look #5 – _don't you have better things to do?_) to shut him up. "Ruining a moment, Tony."

"Huh," he says, pauses, contemplative. "I really, genuinely was."

Steve opens his mouth to disagree, only to be cut off once again.

"Nope. You're staying, Cap. I've done enough tonight." He hauls himself to his feet and shuffles towards the elevator. "Keep the pizza, guys. I'll see you around," he tosses lazily over his shoulder.

Maria looks sharply over at Steve. "Care to explain?"

He shakes his head, hand ruefully rubbing the back of his head. "We clearly don't give him enough credit." At her still quizzical look, he slowly explains. "I haven't drawn in a while, been almost five months, actually. Just… you know, being back here, seeing him… you… I guess I got distracted."

She ducks her head, doesn't blush, but he still sees her steel eyes darken to a murky grey. "I'm glad you're back. However long it is."

"Glad to _be_ back," he grins widely.

"You know, you _could_ just stay to manage him," she says lightly, jerking her thumb in the general direction of the elevator. "Heaven knows I do more than what's in my contract."

"And yourself?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Who's 'managing' you?" He asks, edging closer. _Who's looking after you?_

She hums quietly, fingers tapping against the marble bench. "Not necessary, Captain." She looks up at him and stares him in the eye. "But feel free to drop in whenever," she says, a hint of a smile playing at her mouth.

"I'll take that as a promise."

"And I'll be here. Price of freedom, remember?" She reminds him gently. "Go find your friend."

She rises from the stool and pads out, leaving him alone in the room drenched with moonlight. He finds himself sitting there, furiously scribbling on a sheet of paper left lying on the table, fingers dancing over the page.

(He slips it under her door early the next morning, packs his bag, and leaves with a smile.)


End file.
